How to stop eating your kids’ candy.

I see you there, Reese’s Peanut Butter cup. I see you. Mmmm-hmm.

I know you are chocolatey goodness. I know this ALL TOO WELL.

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Halloween is over, friends. Did you know? Last night, as I walked from house to house, holding my hot tea and trying not to stumble over curbs (It was dark! And cold! And I think people who I chatted with thought I was drinking! Because I tripped about five times! But only in their presence! When it was just me, I could walk like a Victoria Secret Model on the runway! But, with more clothes!)*

Halloween is OVER.

PRAISE THE LORT.

Our house currently looks like Willy Wonka blew up all over it. Both children seem to have the genes of their papa, because they have actually acquired more Reeses than I think is even polite. I know at one point that Red actually said, “TRICK OR TREAT WHERE ARE YOUR REESE’S PEANUT BUTTER CUPS, LADY?” whilst we were out last night. Because, you know, he is so polite and well-mannered.

It’s possible we had to stop all trick or treating for a full-on lecture that went like this:

Me: YOU SHALL NOT ASK FOR CERTAIN THINGS. YOU SHALL SAY THANK YOU. YOU SHALL NEVER EVER ASK SWEET LITTLE OLD LADIES FOR SPECIFICS, OK? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU.

Small costumed Star Wars cherubs: Yes ma’am. We will agree to basically anything as long as we can resume our chocolate safari, ok?

Me: Then perhaps I should also add that you two will detail my car tomorrow, ok?

Small costumed Star Wars cherubs: SURE. WE DON’T KNOW THAT THAT MEANS BUT OK.

Anyhow. We carried on. We got home, cold and tired, after a hard day at the chocolate mines, and proceeded to lose our ever-lovin minds. (Red: sobbing. Blonde: sullen. Me: grim.) Such is the way of Halloween. It always ends with the monsters coming out.

But NOW, I am sitting here, eyeing all that candy, and thinking, if I start in on it, I will proceed to eat my way through my feelings and the feelings of everyone else here, and end up in a pile of fluttery orange wrappers and despair.

I am telling you true; I really need to lay off the candy.

Last week a friend of mine worked on filming me for a promo video for a speaking gig. It was awesome and fun and funny and even involved SOCK PUPPETS. AND ALCOHOLISM. I KNOW. HILARIOUS.

But, as I was watching the video’s final edits… I couldn’t focus on the message at all. In fact, I couldn’t really focus on much of anything except that I had about fourteen CHINS.

I do realize that the camera adds some yardage, but… does it add thirty pounds? and fourteen chins?

I asked the husband: “I look fat. Do I look fat?” He blinked a few times, knowing full well taht answering this will not go well whatever angle he takes, so he simply kissed me and said, “I love you.” Which of course means I am a freaking hippopotamus. But a well loved one.

Sigh. I know. You’re going to say: “Dana, embrace yourself no matter what. You are a child of God. You are beautiful inside and out. Don’t even.”

Well. I KNOW that. Duh.

But. I don’t feel good. And sometimes… do you find yourself inhaling Nutter Butters and they don’t even TASTE all that good? I think I have just lost my tastebuds. They are buried under processed sugar and carbs, y’all.

November. I see you. You are my month to reset, renew, re-imagine…

Resolve some food issues. And I’m gonna do it all here with you as my audience. Because, accountability. Plus, maybe… just MAYBE there are a few of you out there that want to join me?

So, stay tuned! I’ll unveil my FABULOUS NEW NOVEMBER PLAN-O-RAMA FOR…NEW FABLOUSNESS.

(Perhaps the first thing I need is to come up with a new title for this. I’m a work in progress. 🙂

Love all of y’all. Anybody out there (*taps mic) feeling tired? Feeling like sugar is taking over? Feeling like you need a little Re-new? What are your best tips for tackling such issues? I’d love to hear from you!

 

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*Halloween so used to be a drinking thing. But, not anymore. We alcoholics in recovery don’t drink on Halloween. Or any other day, for that matter. Just so you know.

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Terrible No Good Very Bad Day. With Whining.

Brace yourselves. Today is for whining.

This post is all:

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WHOA THERE MOMSIE. DIAL IT BACK. NOBODY WANTS TO SEE THAT.

Ok, I promise you, I am not at “Whining Anakin.” And, yes, did you know? The internets is just this fabulous. All I had to do was google “whining anakin” and up popped sixty majillion pictures because EVERYONE HATES HIM.

(This is a terrible tangent, I know, but it’s therapy. Thank you. And please don’t go.)

All right. Here goes. The other day I posted a couple vids on my facebook page of our road trip home. It was fluffy stuff. The husband was singing some song from the 70’s and I was bored bored bored, so, as most people do when they’re bored: I posted stuff on facebook. It’s what we do. We can’t help it.

It seems, also, that people cannot help posting mean comments.

Oh, trolls. I was so not ready for you.

So far, on my beloved Momsie I have not had many issues with the Trolling Ones.

Here’s the deal. The vid is not really all that … flattering of me. Did you know? I am not all that gorgeous when sitting in a car for 6 hours surrounded by junk food and wrappers and 70’s music and highway?

And also this: I am just not all that gorgeous. Boom. It’s true. I don’t mind. I like my face. I think I am in the “Cute and Loveable” level of face- appearance and that’s cool. I don’t really try to be Hot any more, by any standards because who has time for that crap? And also, my husband still calls me his “widdle freshums” which, honestly? I have no idea what that means but it seems kinda flirty so I’ll take it.

I have chins. Most people have just one. I have multiples. It’s like twins. With chins.

Doubly blessed, then?

I have HAD these chins since I was minus one year old. Back then, at baby-hood, the chins thing? So not a problem. Let me show you:

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Now, if that’s not a widdle freshums I don’t know.

But guys, the chins are still there. And even at my teensiest weight (read: before wedding, must fit in dress weight) I had them. And, really? The only way to get rid of ’em would be to SUCK THEM RIGHT OUTTA MAH FACE AND DONT YOU KNOW IT I HAVE RESEARCHED THIS.

You can even see it in the videos. At one point I am holding my chin with my hand (and yes, the angle was awful. What have selfies taught us, people? Shoot from above! Shoot from ABOVE! Any sniper will tell you that!

No. No chin-suckage will happen in this post, I promise you. And neither will it ever happen in my life because EW and also CRACKAMILLION DOLLARS.

So, my chins and my HUGE FRECKLES (read: sun spots) are a part of me. We’re buddies. We’re LITERALLY stuck with each other. So anyone who has to comment on that is kinda… well, stating the obvious, right? Which means… you are kind of dumb or mean or both.

There. I said it.

I know everyone is all frazzled up about gorillas right now. A week ago it was bathrooms and prior to that Starbucks cups and etc. And damn people, could we all just relax? I think perhaps the internet has spawned a great big fat, multiple chinned monster in a lot of folk: the I WILL JUDGE WITH MY TYPING folk.

Anyhow. I was so whiney about it earlier, the trolls who came and puked all over my page. But now? I’m kind of glad. It at least gives me a moment to realize this:

It could be worse. At least, if I really wanted to, I could suck my chins right outta there.

But you can’t suck away mean and dumb.  That crap holds on.

Good luck with that.

Phew! Whining done, and thank you for listening. Carry on with your day.

Oh, and always remember:

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Lose Weight in Five Easy Steps!

Ok. Just lied. There are not really Super Easy steps for weight loss. Gotcha there. I doubt I could even tie my shoes in Five Easy Steps.

Nothing comes easy. Especially the good stuff.

Or, as my dad usually says, “Life is hard. Get over it.”

Generally, working out to get in shape is, you know, work. It’s one of those sweet sayings that one should cross-stitch on a pillow:

I Could Lose Ten Pounds Today But To Do That I’d Have To Cut Off My Arm.

I know. Kinda grim. Stay with me. It can only go up from here.

So, it’s January. You know what that means, right?

Gym memberships are OFF the CHARTS. Like, everyone and their dog (or in this case, cat) got up, got off the couch, and decided, once and for all, it is time to GET IN SHAPE! Woo hoo!

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And… then, we start to slide into February.

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And before you know it? This.

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By the way? There are a heck of a lot of pictures of fat cats on the great interwebs, y’all. Total time sucker. Fat cats are my spirit animal.

Anyway. Here’s the truth of it. I have not been at my best weight in about a year. Or maybe two. Or seven. Something like that. I have a small issue with perception. I think I’m totally hot.

Well, I am totally hot. But I also think, I am totally in shape  (which I’m not). Could be because I like to wear what we mommies call: “workout gear” a lot. This means: Hoodies and sweatpants. On some days, a bra. There is a lotta give in sweatpants, y’all.

As for the no bra thing? I just do that to keep you guessing.

In reality?

Well, I could post another picture of a fluffy cat that is big-boned, but I think I might have hit my max on that.

This year has been awesome. My book, Bottled: A Mom’s Guide to Early Recovery was published by Central Recovery Press. I got to travel all sorts of places to talk about the book. I even got to be on tv! And I had good hair! It has been awesome.

But along with all that awesome has been a crazy schedule and some hard-core (not the abs kind) stress. And for me? Stress  = cheese.

I am tired. And lately, my body is having a conversation with me that just isn’t working anymore. It goes like this:

Head: Ok! Let’s tackle this day!! Let’s do this!

Body: You go ahead. I’m tired. There’s some cheese in the fridge. I’m gonna head that way and I’ll meet you over at the “this” you keep talking about later.

Head: Impossible. You and me, kid? We’re in this together. Otherwise it gets weird.

Body: Cheese.

 

Lately I have been wanting a change. I miss running. I do run still, but not consistently, and not with any passion. I miss feeling strong. Feeling fast. I miss the simple joy of it.

Let me introduce you to my friend, Jill McKay. I met Jill when I spoke at the Whole Women’s Weekend this past summer. She is a fitness coach,  and I am going to be working with her for the next months or so to try and get my mojo back.

Head: Did you hear that? We’re gonna get our mojo! And then we’re gonna tell everyone about it! It’s called accountability! It’s awesome.

Body: What is this mojo you speak of? It sounds like a drink. The one with the mint.

Head: That’s a mojito and it used to mojo you up all the time. But, now, you drink seltzer and lime. We don’t mojo with substances anymore, remember?

Body: Ok. Can’t I just have some cheese?

Head: MOJO IS NOT BEHIND CHEESE. BACK OUT OF THE FRIDGE.

Jill is a wellness warrior. She has a heart for women who are desperately searching for their mojo, and she is helping many of us find it. Mojo doesn’t really have anything to do with cheese. More on Jill later, but I am going to include this link to her New Beginnings series on her blog. I love it because her goals are VERY similar to mine this year. And, there’s a journal in there, and that is my favorite mojo-tracker ever.

If I write the word “mojo” again I think I might break this post. It’s a funny little word. Like, “qualms.”

Yes. I have no qualms about saying the word “qualms.”

Ok! Well! I think we’re about done here. I’ll just excuse myself to get some more coffee, before this post turns into Words with Friends. Lacking focus today. Could be the cheese.

Click here to read Jill’s post on doing These Two Things for our health. You’ll be glad you did.

Oh, and also this. Because. He’s not fat. He’s fluffy.

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Hey! did you know I wrote a book? Yep. Click on the pic if you would like to know more!

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